


another way to get to know you

by middlecyclone



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bodyswap, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlecyclone/pseuds/middlecyclone
Summary: “Ryan?" asks Shane, "is that you? Are you in my body? Did we switch?”“No,” Sara says, “it’s, uh. It’s Sara. The situation is a little more … nuanced than that.”





	another way to get to know you

**Author's Note:**

> This one kind of got away from me. Title from Wolf Like Me.

It takes a little bit for her to realize something’s off, because everything is more or less the same when she opens her eyes. Sure, she’s lying on the wrong side of the bed, but that’s not that weird. Shit happens.

She realizes something is off when she reaches across the bed for her glasses and they don’t _fit_ , because her head is too _big_ , and then her brain whirs to full awareness and she looks down.

Her body is not her body.

Her body is her boyfriend’s body.

“Oh, shit,” Sara says, and her voice is so much deeper than she’s used to, because it’s _not her voice_. It’s Shane’s voice but slightly different, like the opposite of hearing her own voice on tape, and filtered through the overall weirdness of being in the wrong body.

She stands up. She wobbles, her center of gravity suddenly being located in a completely different location than usual. She sits back down on the edge of the bed, and shakes her own body—and _fuck_ that’s weird—awake.

“Hey,” she says, “Shane, I think we have a problem.”

Her body’s eyes blink open, bleary and confused, and then she watches her own body push itself into a half-seated position on her own elbows.

“I’m not Shane,” she hears her own voice say, “you are. Wait, dude, what are you talking about—wait, where am I?”

“Our apartment,” Sara says, then—“wait, you know already?”

“Know what?” Shane-as-Sara asks, and suddenly Sara can watch him hear himself speak, can see him look down and register his own, newly-female body, and then the dawning horror of realization is sparking in Shane’s—Sara’s— _Shane’s_ eyes and he starts screaming.

“Oh,” Sara says, “so you didn’t know about the body switching thing.”

Shane continues screaming.

“Wow,” Sara says, “am I really that shrill?”

Shane does not stop screaming to answer, which is—pretty uncharacteristic of him, actually. He doesn’t usually scream. He usually either shuts down and goes all pale and quiet, or he starts cracking inappropriate jokes out of nowhere. Unholy wailing isn’t really his jam, that’s more—

Wait.

That’s more _Ryan’s_ speed.

Sara has a terrible, horrible suspicion.

“Ryan?” she asks softly. “Ryan, is that you in there?”

Shane—Ryan— _whoever_ it is is still screaming, so Sara gets to do something that she has privately longed to do all her life: she gets her screwball comedy on and slaps the hysterical man currently occupying her body in the face.

He stops screaming.

“Ryan?” she repeats.

“Yeah,” he says, and then winces. “That fucking _hurt_ , dude,” he whines, rubbing his cheek. “Is that—Sara? Is that you?”

“Yeah,” she says, “it’s me.” She reaches out and touches his face, gently, just to watch the skin of her cheek squish beneath her own hands. So that’s what that feels like, she supposes. It’s less satisfying than she’d hoped.

“What are you doing?” Ryan says, pulling back slightly, and on his face is an expression of bemused concern that she didn’t even think her features were capable of. It is, to put it frankly, _hilarious_.

Sara just ignores him. “Hey, Ryan. Do you know why this is happening?”

“No fucking clue,” he says.

“Are you sure?” she prods. “No ghost taunting? No demon liaisons? Get into a fight with any mysterious fortune-tellers? Break any cursed items?”

“No!” he says, then stops, reconsidering. “Well, actually, Shane has done literally all of those things at one point or another. It could be literally any of those things. He even made fun of a lady dressed like a witch behind her back, but I don’t think she heard him. Well, probably not. Maybe. Actually, he was pretty loud—”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Sara says, rolling her eyes. “Classic Shane.”

“Do you know how fucking _weird_ it is to hear you say that when you look exactly like him?” Ryan says.

“Yes,” Sara says drily, “I think I have some idea.”

There’s a moment of silence there while Sara stares intently at her own face, and then—

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Sara says, horrified. “If you’re in me, and I’m in Shane, then where’s—”

“Who’s in _my_ body _—”_ Ryan says, simultaneously, equally horrified, and then they stare at each other for a long moment.

“Ah, shit,” Ryan says, and then picks up Sara’s phone. She has 19 missed calls, all from Ryan’s number.

“Give me that,” Sara says, as it begins to vibrate again in his hands, and she answers it with a frantic, “Shane?”

“Oh thank God,” he says back. “Ryan? Are you in my body? Did we switch?”

“No,” Sara says, “it’s, uh. It’s Sara. The situation is a little more … nuanced than that.”

There’s a silence. “Is—is Ryan—”

“Yes,” Sara says.

There’s another silence.

“I’m coming over,” he says, “now,” and hangs up.

Sara stares at Ryan. Ryan stares at Sara. Obi stares at both of them.

“Jesus,” Ryan shrieks, “how long has your cat been there?”

Sara just shrugs. “I’m making coffee,” she says, instead, and tugs on a random pair of Shane’s pants and a shirt before heading to the kitchen.

The coffee is in the cupboard over the sink, and Sara is impressed by how easy it is to open it. Usually she can just barely grab the handle with her fingertips, but in Shane’s body the door is right at eye level.

Which is how she manages to open the door right into her forehead without realizing.

“Ow! Fuck!”

“You okay in there?” Ryan calls from the other room.

“More or less,” Sara calls back, wincing.

And yet, after she manages to grab the bag of coffee out of the cupboard with no further injury, there’s something about the repetitive motion of grinding the beans, measuring the water, and setting the machine to run that calms her down temporarily, but it’s a pretty simple task and she finishes it far more quickly than she would have preferred. She looks down and notes that her hands— _Shane’s_ hands—are shaking uncontrollably.

They’re big hands. They’re too big, honestly. That’s certainly not something she’s ever thought about them before, ahem, but holding anything in them now feels bizarre and off. The measuring spoon felt like a little doll spoon, and her phone—

Sara pulls out her phone, her phone that feels like a tiny little toy in her hands, and frantically googles “body switching”. It’s not really all that helpful. She gets the Freaky Friday trailer, a couple BBC articles about a virtual reality device, and a really stupid Cracked article.

Hopefully but tentatively, she changes this to “three way body swap.”

This mostly just gets her porn.

Well, she thinks, maybe—

At this point, luckily, someone rings the buzzer. Sara practically trips over herself trying to use Shane’s absurdly long noodle legs to dash across the kitchen to the buzzer and hit the talk button.

“Shane?” she says.

“Fuck,” Shane says, but his voice is unmistakeably Ryan’s. “That’s weird.”

“I’m buzzing you up,” Sara says, and does.

She flings the door open the instant she hears the tread of his footsteps in the hallway. Ryan—no, Shane—is standing there, hands in his pockets, looking shell-shocked as hell.

“Thank _fuck_ ,” Sara says, and pulls him inside, slams the door closed, and then flings her arms around him. It doesn’t really work, because she’s a full foot taller than she usually is and Shane is six inches shorter in Ryan’s body. They go careening backwards, Shane’s knees buckling under the unexpected weight, and slam into the door with a loud thud.

“Ouch,” Shane says.

“Sorry!” Sara says, wincing in sympathy. “You’re just so fucking tall!”

“You know this,” Shane complains. “You live with me!”

“Yeah, well,” Sara says, “it’s one thing to know that you’re tall and another thing altogether to have to make your stupid legs _move_ right, I don’t know how you go _anywhere_ —”

“Hey,” Shane says, cutting her off, “I don’t care that you just tackled me, Sara, I’m just—I’m just really glad to see you. Even if you do look way uglier than usual.”

Sara laughs then, and hugs Shane again, more gently this time, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s strange beyond words; she has to lean _down_ rather than reaching up, her arms going around Shane’s shoulders rather than wrapping themselves around his chest. And Shane’s arms are all wrong, too, all muscles and strength rather than their usual orangutan comfort.

But she knows it’s still him in there, just like it’s still her inside his body, and for as all wrong as the hug is, its still comforting and familiar; it’s still exactly what she needs.

“Hey,” Ryan says, ambling out of the bedroom, still dressed in only the oversized t-shirt Sara uses as pajamas. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, that is _weird_ as  _fuck_.”

“Can you please put some pants on?” Sara asks, because that’s _her_ body, those are her legs hanging out, and she feels unexpectedly weird about it.

Ryan shrugs. “Why? You know what you look like, Shane knows what you look like, and I’m stuck in here so it’s not like I’m not going to learn soon.”

“Pants,” Sara repeats sternly. “Now.”

Ryan huffs at her, but disappears back into their room only to emerge moments later, tugging at the waistband of a pair of black leggings.

“These are comfy as hell,” he says, impressed. “No wonder girls love leggings! I get it now!”

“Hi, Ryan,” Shane says. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey, big guy,” Ryan replies, “good to see you too. How’s my body treatin’ ya?”

“Not bad, not bad,” Shane says. “What’s it like to be inside Sara?”

Ryan laughs. Sara glares at both of them.

“Answer that question very carefully,” she says, stretching the first syllable of ‘very’ out into a long, threatening note. “Very carefully indeed.”

“So why did this happen?” Shane asks, ignoring her. “Do you guys have any idea why my look _du jour_ is suddenly and unexpectedly Ryan-esque? And Ryan, don’t say ghosts.”

“It could have been ghosts!” Ryan protests, indignant. “You don’t know that!”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Shane says flatly.

“Babe,” Sara says tentatively, “you know I’m usually on your side on this—”

“What do you mean, _usually_?”

“But there does seem to be some relatively hard evidence of the supernatural right here—”

“That doesn’t mean _ghosts_ —”

“It means _something_ ,” Sara says firmly.

“Whatever it is, it’s your fault,” Ryan accuses.

Shane just shrugs at that. “Fair enough,” he admits. “You’re probably right about that.”

“So how do we fix it?” Ryan asks. “No offense, Sara, but I don’t really wanna be a girl forever.”

“None taken,” Sara says. “I’m not exactly thrilled to be stuck in my boyfriend’s weird, lanky body.”

“You love my weird, lanky body,” Shane says idly.

“I do,” Sara says, “but that doesn’t mean I want to _inhabit_ it!”

“Okay,” Ryan says, clapping his hands together, “guys. Focus!”

“Right,” Sara says, “about that. I have a theory, but I don’t think you guys are going to like it.”

“Hit me,” Ryan says, “I’ll take anything you’ve got at this point.”

“I think we all have to fuck,” Sara says bluntly.

Ryan chokes on what appears to be his own saliva. It’s an astonishingly unflattering look, and Sara privately hopes it’s not an expression she herself wears all that often. She worries it might be. “ _What?!”_

Sara shrugs at him with her new extra-long extra-floppy boy arms. “Look, I don’t know, that’s what always worked in Harry Potter fanfiction.”

“Harry Potter fanfiction?” Shane repeats, one eyebrow raised.

“Judge not, lest ye be judged,” Sara says primly, and unbuttons her—Shane’s—jeans. “Alright, how do we want to do this?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ryan says, interrupting. “Are you sure that this isn’t actually a _Freaky Friday_ situation? Maybe we need to live in each others bodies for a day and gain new perspectives as we grow to respect one another.”

“It’s Saturday,” Shane points out, “and I respect you guys just fine.”

“Besides,” Sara says, “it’s probably pretty hard to self-actualize hard enough to break a fancy evil magic curse. Having sex sounds way easier.”

Ryan sighs. Sara suspects that it’s the sound that would be a wheeze if he was using his own vocal cords, but with hers it just sounds absurdly dramatic, like a swooning heroine in a 19th century novel. “I just feel like there has to be a third option,” he says. “I feel like it can’t just be sex and self-actualization as bodyswap cures. Surely there’s something in the middle?”

“Hey,” Sara says, “if it’s good enough for Harry and Draco, it should be good enough for us.”

“Harry and Draco?” Shane asks. “Really?”

“I told you, judge not, etcetera,” Sara says, rolling her eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

Shane shrugs. “Not really.”

“I mean, no,” Ryan says, “but—”

“Look,” Sara says, “we’re not going to make you do something you don’t want to, obviously. But isn’t it worth a shot?”

“Sure,” Ryan admits, “but it’s—fuck, it’s weird. How are you guys not weirded out right now?”

“I’m pretty weirded out,” Shane says. “Do I seem calm? Because I do not feel calm.”

“Me too,” Sara says. “It’s just—you know, we gotta do what we gotta do. And I’ve gotta keep my shit together, because if I don’t—I don’t know what’ll happen.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, voice small. “Yeah, that makes sense. I guess.”

“I’m going to kiss Sara now,” Shane tells him. “I’m going to use your body to do that. Is that okay?”

Ryan grimaces at that, but he also nods. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good,” Shane says. “Thank you.” He reaches out and grabs the belt loop of Sara’s jeans, spinning her around and pulling her close to him. It would have worked a lot better in their usual bodies, but with Shane all Ryan-sized and Sara all Shane-sized, it’s a little unbalanced and she goes crashing into him a little too hard for anyone’s liking.

“You stole that from that Netflix movie,” Ryan says accusingly. “ _To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before._ Sorry, Shane, you’re no, uh, Peter Kavinsky _.”_

“And I would have gotten away with it, too,” Shane says, in his Transatlantic accent, “if it weren’t for you meddling kids!”

“A for effort,” Sara tells him. “D for execution.”

“I’ll show you D for execution,” Shane says, and kisses her.

If hugging while bodyswapped had been strange, kissing is much, much worse. Shane still kisses like himself, of course, but even though the movements are familiar it’s _not_ his _mouth_. And it’s awkward for Sara to have to tilt her head down; she’s not used to the position at all.

But Sara is no quitter. There is no way that she’s going to let a little thing like being in the wrong bodies stop her from kissing Shane. So she pulls back for a moment and braces herself, planting her feet wider apart, and then bends back down with her back, this time, not her neck, and kisses him again.

It works a lot better this time, because their mouths are actually properly aligned. It’s bizarre beyond words to be feeling like this, to be the one giving the beard burn instead of the one getting it, simply to be the larger one. Sara hasn’t been the larger one in any of her relationships, romantic or otherwise, since she was 12.

But for all the weirdness, it’s still Shane in there. It’s still her boyfriend she’s kissing, and she knows him, loves him. It’s not right but it’s still good, until—

“Hey!” Ryan says. “No.”

Sara pulls back reluctantly. “No?”

“This is just too weird,” Ryan says. “I’m standing here watching myself kiss my best friend and coworker. It’s fucking surreal.”

Shane shrugs at him. “Look, man, we’ll stop, but I don’t know how else we’re going to get our bodies back—“

“No, no,” Ryan interrupts. “I’m not saying we can’t still try, but I can’t just stand here watching you. I feel like the world’s shittiest voyeur.”

“That’s fair,” Sara admits.

“I mean,” Ryan continues, “like, I’m not saying I haven’t thought about it—“

“Wait, _what—“_

“But when I did, I was actually participating in it, you know, not like, floating around creeping on myself—“

“So you want in on this,” Shane interrupts. “That’s what you’re saying.”

Ryan flushes. “Well, yeah. I have always wanted to fuck a clone of myself.”

“Hey!” Sara says excitedly. “Twins!” She holds her hand out for a high five. Ryan slaps her palm eagerly.

“You guys are weird,” Shane says.

“What,” Ryan snorts, “like you’ve never thought about it?”

“No!”

“I did kind of think I would be in my own body when it happened,” Sara admits, “but I guess this works too.”

“So, how about it, big guy?” Ryan asks.

“I mean,” Shane says, “you currently look exactly like my girlfriend, whom I love—“

“Aw, thanks babe!”

“So I don’t really have any objections on that ground—“

“Okay yeah,” Ryan says, “but it is still me in here, yknow?”

“Yeah, well,” Shane says, “I don’t really have any objections on that ground, either.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, after a long pause. “Well.”

“Works for me,” Sara says brightly. “Come on, now, boys! Kiss!”

Ryan glares at her, but Shane just laughs and grabs the waist of Ryan’s leggings, doing the same twirl-grab that he’d tried on Sara earlier. It works a little better on Ryan, because he’s actually appropriately sized, but there’s still a non-zero amount of stumbling.

“How was that?” Shane asks him. “Do you feel Kavinsky-ed yet?”

“Shut _up,_ Shane,” Ryan says, and kisses him.

It’s weird, Sara thinks, watching them. She kind of sees where Ryan was coming from, earlier. It does feel voyeuristic, but not in an actually invasive way, because it is her own body she’s looking at. It’s more like watching a sex tape she doesn’t remember making.

But they do look good together, too, which is even weirder. She knows it’s Shane kissing Ryan, there, but it looks like it’s Ryan kissing _her,_ and she’s surprised by how much she enjoys looking at it. Which is probably something to come back to some other time, she thinks, because—

“Ryan!” Shane gasps, faux-scandalized. “Are you feeling up your _own_ biceps?”

“I worked hard for these babies,” he says defensively. “I’m gonna enjoy them from as many angles as possible.”

“Typical,” Shane snorts. “Just typical _.”_

 _“_ What’s it like kissing yourself?” Sara asks, curious. “Like, I’ve kissed _you_ and that was weird as hell, no offense, but I feel like that selfcest has gotta be next level.”

“It is,” Ryan says. “Wanna give it a spin?”

“Oh, _fuck_ yes,” Sara says, and then she’s stepping forward and putting her hands on her own shoulders and bending down to kiss herself.

“You guys are so weird,” Shane complains in the background, but Sara barely registers him because she’s too busy kissing herself, too busy figuring out what her mouth and her teeth and her tongue feel like from the outside, and then she’s sliding a hand up and—

“Hey!” Ryan squawks, indignant, jumping backwards. “Don’t _grope_ me!”

Sara shrugs at him. “They’re my tits, dude.”

“Not while I’m in here, they’re not!”

Sara sighs. “Okay, fair enough. Ryan, may I touch your breasts?”

“Not when you phrase it like that!”

“So what’s the verdict on the selfcest?” Shane asks them, interrupting. “Because I have to say, I was not the biggest fan.”

“It’s awesome,” Ryan and Sara say simultaneously.

“Jinx, you owe me a Coke,” Sara adds quickly.

“Ugh, whatever,” Ryan says.

“Seriously?” Shane asks. “You don’t think it’s super weird?”

“Of course I think it’s super weird,” Sara says. “But that’s why I’m into it.”

“This whole thing is like an insane fever sex dream,” Ryan tries to explain, “except, like, real. But if we have to deal with the fever stuff and the reality stuff then we should at least get to have the sex dream part of it too.”

“Oh, very well said, Ryan,” Sara says, and tilts her head to the side, staring consideringly at him.

“Why are you staring at me like that,” Ryan says flatly. “Sara. Why does the look on your face kind of scare me—“

“Okay,” Sara cuts him off, “so who gets to fuck themselves first?”

“Good golly,” Shane says, “you’re just really getting down to business, aren’t you?”

“Rock, paper, scissors for it?” Ryan suggests, ignoring him.

Sara goes paper.

Ryan goes rock.

“Yes!”

Sara picks up her body with Ryan inside, like a weird sexy matryoshka doll, and Ryan follows her lead and wraps his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist.

“I have literally always wanted to do this,” Sara says, delighted. “Shane! You’re so big! I can pick myself up!”

“I can see that, Sara,” Shane says patiently.

“How come you never pick me up like this?” Sara complains. “I feel like I’m the bachelor and Ryan is a nubile young bachelor contestant! It’s extremely basic and heteronormative!”

“That’s why,” Shane says. “Also it hurts my back.”

“Wait, wait,” Sara says, getting an idea, and then sets Ryan back down before picking him up again, in a bridal carry this time. “I’m gonna do the threshold thing!” she announces proudly.

In the corner of her vision, Shane is burying his face in his hands despairingly.

“This feels really emasculating,” Ryan complains as she carries him through the doorway to their bedroom. “Which I guess makes sense, because I’m literally technically not a man right now, but—oof!” He says that last bit as Sara drops him onto their mattress from just a little bit too high, and he bounces as he lands, making the bedframe creak.

“Now that’s an excellent question,” Shane says, following them into the room. “Like, what _is_ your gender right now? You’re still Ryan, so it follows that regardless of your current body—“

“Nope,” Sara cuts him off. “Shane, honey, I respect what you’re trying to do here, but hopefully we won’t be in these bodies long enough to need to run gender theory analyses on them.”

“Why _are_ you here?” Ryan asks him, looking up from where he’s sprawled across their covers. “Are you just gonna, like, watch us have sex?”

Shane shrugs. “It’s no less weird to watch you guys than it would be to stand outside in the living room waiting for you to finish. And besides, it’s my girlfriend _and_ my body in here. Of course I’m going to watch.”

“Ugh,” Sara says, “too much talking. Ryan, are we good? Can we get this show on the road?”

“Get this—oh,” Ryan says, “uh, yeah,” and then Sara is peeling off the black leggings he’s wearing and he’s helping her, lifting his hips and shimmying out of them until he’s lying there on top of their comforter in just the oversized t-shirt and panties.

“Perfect,” Sara says, and her voice comes out—rough, almost? Husky? She didn’t expect that to happen, unused to these vocal cords, but she shrugs it off as she grabs Ryan’s knees and eases them apart until his legs are spread wide and she’s kneeling between them.

She’s initially hesitant, not sure exactly where to start, at first, but then she remembers that this is _her_ body, technically, even if she’s not inside it right now. She knows all her own quirks and turn-ons; she is uniquely qualified for this task.

And so she takes her hands and touches him, gently at first, starting with teasing movements on his inner thighs and slowly inching her way upward, before grabbing at the hem of his sleep-shirt and tugging it off and over his head.

“Man, oh, man,” Sara says gleefully, “I have _great_ tits,” and she grabs one of them, cupping it, feeling the weight of it before taking two fingers and gently squeezing his nipple between them.

“Ow!” Ryan squeaks.

“You liar,” Sara says, “I _know_ that doesn’t hurt.”

“It—okay, yeah, no,” he admits, “but it surprised me!”

“Better get ready for this, then,” she advises him. And then she takes one of Shane’s stupid too-big hands and rubs at Ryan’s pussy through her underwear—her _favorite_ underwear, she notices—and Ryan, who had been lying there quite passively till this moment, jerks.

“Oh,” he says. “That’s—“

“Yeah,” Sara says. “You like that?”

“You _know_ I did,” he says, “don’t be mean.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t,” she says. “I’m going to be so, _so_ nice to you,” and she moves her fingers up to circle his clit, careful but firm, and Ryan makes this  _noise_ , shrill and keening, that’s—

“Do I sound like that?” she asks Shane, startled. “Be real with me. Do I sound like that.”

“Kind of, sometimes,” he says, “but not like, this fast. Maybe between orgasms four and five.”

“Fuck off, Shane,” Ryan says, “this is just—it’s _new_ , okay, it’s an entirely different—whatever, I don’t care, just shut up and do that again.”

Sara laughs, and does, pressing harder until the fabric of her panties is tight up against Ryan and she feels his wetness start to leak through. And then she wants to try something, so she does: she leans down and starts to mouth at her clit, licking through the already-damp cotton.

“Jesus,” Ryan says, almost reverent. “Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, can you take these stupid ugly underwear off me already, for God’s sake, I’m gonna soak right through them, it’s disgusting—”

“It’s not disgusting,” Shane interjects from where he’s standing behind Sara, watching. “Trust me. Really not disgusting.”

“And be nice about my underwear,” Sara scolds. “They’re my favorites.” They’re pale purple with little raccoons eating pizza and donuts printed all over them. Obviously they’re her favorites.

But she obeys him and drags them off, dropping them on the ground, and then she dives back in and gets back to licking Ryan’s clit, short firm strokes with her tongue that make him gasp out monosyllables and squirm beneath the firm pressure of her huge hands on his thighs.

“Do you—ah!—do you really need to do all this, anyway?” Ryan says, panting. “Can’t we just hurry up and get this over with? I want—I want you to—”

“Nope,” Sara says. “Trust me on this one. Shane is not small and I am not large. You’re gonna wanna get warmed up.”

And with that, she slides her index and middle fingers inside Ryan. He’s wet enough that they go easy, just like she knew they would, and she crooks her fingers upward and inward as she continues to lick at his clit, just like she knows she likes.

She’s hard in her jeans now, and it’s a really odd sensation; it’s not unlike what it feels like to be turned on in her own body, but it also feels more urgent, maybe, less likely to ebb away of its own accord. It’s a little distracting, sure, but not enough to really throw her off. It’s just kind of a baseline thrum of arousal in the back of her mind, a hot backing track to whatever she does to Ryan in the foreground.

And what she does is slide her fingers in and out a few times, fucking Ryan on her hand, before pulling them out completely. He makes a little whimpering noise at the loss but she ignores him. Her right hand is slick with his wetness but she ignores that, too, and moves Ryan’s legs even farther apart and licking straight into the heat of him, ignoring Shane standing behind her, watching intently. Ryan’s hips won’t stop canting upwards and his thighs are twitching relentlessly, but Sara ignores all that, too. She’s singlemindedly focused on moving her mouth in all the ways she knows she likes best, and that’s all.

“Okay,” Ryan says eventually, “okay, Jesus, I’m warmed up already, I feel so fucking weird—“

“Weird how?” Sara asks, pulling back, hesitant. “Good weird or bad weird?”

“Like, empty,” he tells her, “I just feel really fucking empty, it’s like—I don’t even know, I’ve never felt like this before, I just want—“

“Okay,” Sara says, “I guess you’re ready, then,” and starts to finally, _finally_ unbutton her jeans. Her dick is aching in an unfamiliar way she hadn’t really expected, going in, and she also didn’t really expect just _how_ different it would all be.

She pulls off her jeans all the way, and then her boxers, freeing herself from the elastic waistband as she shoves it down, and then she pulls her t-shirt off too, for good measure, because she’s not about to fuck Ryan naked from the waist down and still wearing a shirt. It would not be, she suspects, a good look.

“So,” Shane says, “what’s the verdict?”

“Very into it.” Sara tells him. “It’s kind of nice to get a front row seat to my own ladybusiness.”

“Oh my God, whatever,” Ryan interrupts, “I don’t fucking care, will you shut up and just _fuck_ me already?”

“Happy to oblige,” Sara says, and rolls on the condom Shane passes to her, only fumbling it a little bit due to the awkwardness of being in Shane’s body.

And then Sara slides into Ryan in one easy motion, as slow and careful as she can manage but steady, too, and it’s—

She’s not sure what she was expecting, but not—not _this_ , not this overwhelming sensation of warmth and tightness around her, not—

“Jesus,” Ryan breathes, “you weren’t kidding, Shane is fucking huge.”

“I _told_ you,” Sara says. “You should always listen to me, obviously, come on, Ryan.”

“This is great,” Shane says smugly. “Please, guys, continue to discuss how big my dick is, I’m really loving this ego boost—”

“Shut up, Shane,” they both say in unison, and then Sara decides that she’s waited long enough and starts to move, just a little bit, and it feels almost impossibly good.

Sara looks down at Ryan, at _herself_ , as she grinds down and it is surreal beyond belief. It had been weird before, sure, but now she’s looking down at her own eyes, her own hair, her own breasts and hips and everything and it’s like her body can almost sense that it’s not just the familiarity of Shane but that her _soul_ is in here too and she feels like she’s being welcomed back in, almost, which is stupid but this whole day is stupid and so she feels it anyway.

She leans forward a little, and leans all her weight on one arm, still moving. Ryan squeaks a little at the change of angle but then Sara brings her other arm down and presses one hand against Ryan’s clit, rubbing in firm, hard circles.

“Oh,” Ryan says, “oh my _fucking God,_ ” and then the words blend into a long, low moan and his back is arching, he’s tossing his head back wildly as he comes, clenching impossibly tightly around Sara. And before she knows it, she’s following him over the edge, the new sensation too much for her and as she comes the whole world flares white around her—

She opens her eyes again.

She’s back.

The change in angle is disorienting, to suddenly find herself flat on her back, body still shuddering with the aftershocks of what was technically someone else’s orgasm.

But it’s _her_ body, and she’d missed it an unexpected amount for only being flung out of it for a few hours. It feels _so_ good, like sleeping in her own bed after weeks staying in hotels, like shrugging on her favorite sweatshirt, like—

Like coming home.

“Did it work?” Shane asks, sitting down on the bed next to Sara’s head. “Are you back in your body?”

“Yeah,” Sara tells him. “Ryan?” she asks, looking up at what’s still Shane’s face. “Is that you in there? Did we switch?”

“Must have,” Ryan says. “God, that was weird.” He pulls out of Sara and rolls over, flopping down on his back next to her. “You know, I really didn’t think that would work,” he confesses.

“Me neither,” Sara agrees.

“It was _your_ idea!”

“I mean, it was all I could think of, but my hopes were pretty low!”

“Well, thank God it did work,” Shane says, “I really didn’t want to have to self-actualize or win the Battle of the Bands or whatever else _Freaky Friday_ is actually about.”

“Yeah,” Sara agrees, “I mean, that was pretty fun, and I can’t play the guitar, so. Best case scenario, pretty much.”

“Oh, hey,” Ryan says suddenly, “it’s my turn!”

He pushes himself up, slowly and laboriously, until he’s leaning back on his elbows and then he reaches one arm over Sara’s body and grabs the neck of Shane’s t-shirt, tugging him into a kiss.

“Really, guys?” From where she’s lying, it’s like Shane and Ryan are creating a makeout bridge above her, trapping her between them and the bed. In theory Sara has realized that she is very pro- the overall visual of them kissing, but in practice the view from this angle isn’t exactly great. Nobody looks their best shot from the chin up.

They ignore her. They seem to be getting pretty into it, actually, despite the awkward angle, which Sara respects and admires, but then Shane leans over a little farther and Sara is beginning to actually be squished by them, which is not really what she’s looking to get out of this whole deal.

She pokes Shane in the ribs. He flinches. “What—“

“If you guys don’t move, I’m gonna end up flatter than a pancake,” Sara says. “Come on, I can barely breathe, scoot—“

“Fine, fine,” Shane says, and clambers over her—

“Ow! Shane, please—“

“Sorry—“

—and then he’s kissing Ryan again, pressing him into the mattress, and Sara sits up and pulls her knees tight to her chest, giving them more space.

Ryan is, once more, taking his hands and running them up his body’s own biceps, over his abs, across his back, even grabbing his own ass.

“This really is quite narcissistic,” Sara observes.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Ryan says, breathing heavily.

“Can I please get some quiet from the peanut gallery?” Shane asks.

“Probably not,” Sara admits. “Sorry.”

“Take this off,” Ryan says, ignoring her as he scrabbles at the hem of Shane’s shirt. “No, really, off—“

“I’m working on it, hold your horses—“

“You really are obsessed with taking your shirt off,” Sara says. “Even when it’s not _your_ shirt.”

“Ok, I’m with Shane on this one,” Ryan says. “Can I get a little less commentary?”

“Fine,” Sara says, “I’ll try,” and doesn’t mean it at all.

Shane emerges from inside his shirt, finally, looking more than slightly rumpled. “So what are the rules of this, anyway?” he asks. “Do we have to have penetrative sex, or is any type of sex okay?”

“Are you asking me?” Sara says. “Why would I know?”

“Well, you were right before—”

“That doesn’t mean I know the answers!”

Shane ignores her. “What about orgasms? Do we both have to come, or will just one of us do? Does it have to be simultaneous?”

“I don’t know that, either,” Sara says, “but—”

“I came,” Ryan says, frankly. “Also, it was great. Girl orgasms are great, really recommend, 10 out of 10. Anyway, I think Sara did too—”

“You betcha,” Sara says. “So, I don’t know if that means you both _have_ to, but since we know that’s what works, you may as well give it the good ol’ college try.”

“Fair enough,” Shane says. “So, do you think it’ll work without penetrative sex?”

“I mean,” Sara says, “again, you can _experiment_ , if you want, but if you’re looking for the closest path back home—”

“Dude, I’m up for anything,” Ryan says immediately. “I mean, not if you don’t want to, but I’m like—you know—I’m into butt stuff.” He finishes that statement by turning bright red and staring fixedly at the ceiling. It’s adorable.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sara tells him airily, “Shane’s into butt stuff. This is a very pro-butt stuff household.”

“Sara!”

“Yes, Shane?”

“ _Really_?” Ryan asks avidly, then somehow manages to find an even deeper shade of red somewhere in his complexion. It’s pretty impressive, actually. “Not that—I just—”

“Can you _not_ air my preferences in bed to my coworker?” Shane asks Sara, exasperated.

“I mean,” Sara points out, “your coworker is already naked _in_ your bed, I think the ship has sailed on that one.”

“Little bit,” Ryan says, and then blurts without warning, “so can I fuck you?”

Shane blinks at him. “My, my, Mr. Bergara,” he says. “Quite forward, aren’t we?”

“Technically, it’s my body,” Ryan says. “So you would be fucking me. Kind of. If that’s better.”

“I’m not sure there is a better in this situation,” Shane says. “We’ve got two possibilities, and I’m equally happy with either of them.”

“I—equally?”

Shane smiles, slow and smug, and Sara rolls her eyes because she knows what’s coming.

“I’m very _flexible,_ ” he purrs.

Ryan looks like he might die. Sara rolls her eyes and does a quick mental review of the Heimlich maneuver, just in case he actually is choking and not just giving himself a sexy aneurysm, and then Ryan is squirming out from underneath Shane and dragging him off the bed.

“Up,” he’s saying, “up, now, pants off—”

“Slow your roll, man!”

“Pants off,” Ryan repeats, and fumbles with Shane’s jeans button himself, not waiting for help, just trying desperately to get them off.

“God, fine,” Shane says, and pushes them down, stepping out of them, and then pulling his boxers off as well.

Ryan, face lighting up as though something delightful has just occurred to him, grabs Shane by the elbows and spins him around, then pushes him away and takes a step back before staring speculatively and intensely at Shane’s ass.

“Good _God_ ,” he says, “I really _do_ have to stop skipping leg day.”

“Stop objectifying yourself,” Shane complains. “I feel like a honey baked ham.”

“A—what?”

“You know,” Shane says, “just a big ol’ slab of meat, and you’re just staring at me, seeing how well-glazed I am, waiting to dig your chompers right in—“

“You are so fucking _weird_ ,” Ryan says fondly, and spins him back around and then they’re kissing again.

Sara just sits there, watching them. She feels a little creepy and more than a little voyeuristic, but she’s not going to, like, leave. She’s not going to miss a second of this.

“Hey,” Ryan says, “do you guys have, like—”

Sara tosses him the lube before he even finishes asking.

“Thanks,” he says. “Hey, wanna help me with this?”

Sara assumes that by “this” he means Shane’s ass, and honestly—yes. Yes, she really _would_ like to help him with this.

“Alright, Bergara,” she drawls, “if you insist.”

“Hey, babe,” Shane says, as she takes the lube back from Ryan and pops it open.

“Hey, yourself,” she says. “Turn over.”

He grins at her and drops a firm kiss on her mouth first, before obeying her instructions. She squeezes some lube onto her fingers, rubbing them together to warm them up before pressing one finger, slowly, inside Shane.

It’s bizarre, because it’s Ryan’s body but it’s still clearly Shane in his mannerisms, words, and even his physical reactions. No, it’s not exactly the same, and it’s startling to see Shane’s expressions on Ryan’s face, but the way he clenches his jaw, the way his eyes keep fluttering closed, the way he’s mostly quiet but Sara can hear his breathing shift with every movement of her hand—that’s all Shane.

“Can you hurry this up?” Shane complains. “I’m growing moss here.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sara tells Ryan, rolling her eyes. “He likes it slow.”

But she does slip in a second finger then and start to stretch him open with more focus. She loves this part. Not as much as she likes pegging Shane, of course, but it’s still really, really good.

“Okay,” Ryan says. He’s been watching her intently this whole time, and now he’s drawing closer to her. “My turn.”

“Okay,” Sara says, and pulls her fingers out of Shane, ignoring the face he makes at her. “I can walk you through it, if you want.”

“I’m not some blushing virgin,” Ryan says, “I know what I’m doing.”

“I know that,” Sara says, “I’m just saying—”

“Yeah, no, I know,” Ryan says, “thanks,” and then he’s drizzling lube onto his fingers and shoving two inside Shane, steady and assured.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Shane yelps, “warn a man, won’t you?”

“I told you he likes it slow,” Sara says drily.

Ryan rolls his eyes and continues to finger Shane. Sara leans over, placing one hand on Shane’s elbow to brace herself as she gets a better look.

“Move your hand like—no, not like that, like—”

“Guh,” Shane says, jerking a little.

“Yeah,” Sara says. “Like that. Now harder.”

“Stop backseat fingerblasting your boyfriend,” Ryan says. “Seriously, I’ve got this.”

“No, really, _harder_ ,” Shane interrupts. “Listen to her, man.”

“I told you, I know what he’s about,” Sara says.

“Yeah, but it’s _my_ body,” Ryan says, and adds a third finger. “I know it inside and out. Literally.”

“Mblargh,” Shane says.

They both look at him.

“That’s nice, darling,” Sara says, and pats him on the shoulder. “Very interesting.”

Shane just writhes a little bit.

Sara leans down and kisses him, just a chaste peck on the corner of his mouth. “You’re doing great, sweetie,” she tells him.

“Okay, no, you get out of here, now,” Ryan orders her. “We don’t want you getting mixed back up in our bodyswapping.”

“Fine, fine,” Sara says, “no more touching,” and scoots backward, folding her legs beneath her and folding her arms across her chest.

“Are my hands really this big,” Shane says, “like, seriously?”

“Yes,” Sara and Ryan say simultaneously.

“Oh,” Shane says. “Ryan, what the hell are you _doing_ to me—”

Ryan just laughs. In Shane’s body, it sounds extremely evil.

“Come _on_ ,” Shane says, “can we just—do this, now—”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, “yeah, don’t worry, I got you, buddy.”

He flips Shane over, maneuvering him into the position he wants, and then Ryan pushes into Shane, pushes into his own body, in what looks like one slow but steady movement.

They both gasp as Ryan enters Shane; Shane makes a very familiar noise that’s more like a punched-out breath than anything else, and Ryan just kind of moans into it.

“God,” Shane manages, “God, Ryan—”

“I know,” Ryan says, “I know, dude, this is crazy.”

“It’s good, though, right?” Sara asks softly, interrupting them. “Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, “it’s insane, and surreal, and weird, and kind of incestuous, but it’s also just so—”

“I know,” Sara says, “I know.”

“This is very nice and all,” Shane says, “but can you please, please get on with it? Ryan—”

Ryan doesn’t say anything, he just braces his arms next to Shane’s head and starts to move.

Shane’s eyes flutter closed, and Sara can tell that he’s feeling overwhelmed, and too disturbed to continue looking into his own face for so long. Ryan’s eyes, conversely, are glued to Shane, tracing the contours of his cheekbones, the breadth of his shoulders, the way his chest moves up and down with every breath.

Ryan kisses himself one last time, deep and thorough. Shane makes a startled noise into the kiss, then returns it, and then moves his hand down to grab himself.

“No,” Ryan says, “let me,” and he knocks Shane’s hand away to wrap his suddenly-long fingers around Shane’s cock.

As he strokes Shane, he adjusts his grip a few times. “God,” he mutters, “this is way harder from this angle.” But eventually he seems to get it right, because Shane starts making the sounds that Sara knows mean he’s close.

Ryan speeds up his thrusts, and then Sara can see Shane coming. Ryan keeps going, fucking him through it, going harder and faster and then a minute or two later he seems to come too, with a long, low groan.

There’s a long moment where they just lay there, still connected, and then Ryan rolls over, pulling out and flopping onto his back next to Shane.

Except, maybe not; maybe Shane is lying next to Ryan, maybe—hopefully—

“You guys?” Sara asks tentatively. “Did it work?”

“I think so,” Shane’s body says. “Am I looking taller?”

Sara feels an unexpected wave of sheer, overwhelming relief rush through her, so powerful her knees go weak with it, and her laugh turns into a sob of happiness. “Thank _fuck_ ,” she says, “I just—”

“I know, babe,” Shane says, and reaches a hand out to stroke her hair, soft and gentle. “I know.”

“That was insane,” Ryan says. “I can’t believe that worked _twice_.”

“At least the logic of the weird bodyswap magical curse is internally consistent,” Shane says. “At least we have this.”

“Honestly, I’ll take it,” Ryan says. “No more pissing off witches or ghosts or demons or witches or—God, you really do pick a lot of fights. All of them. Stop it.”

“No promises,” Shane says, honestly, “because we go to a lot of very stupid places and the fights make great TV, but I’ll stop bringing you into it, at the very least.”

“Count me out, too,” Sara says, “please. This wasn’t all terrible, but I’m not exactly looking for a repeat.”

“I am sorry,” Shane says. “You guys know that, right? I really didn’t think anything would happen.”

“Oh, we know,” Ryan says. “Man, it’s a pity we didn’t take any video, this could have been some great evidence for Unsolved.”

“I think it’s a little too pornographic for YouTube,” Shane says. “And really, it would have been terrible evidence, it’s not exactly something we could have proved.”

“Oh, point,” Ryan concedes.

“I’m hungry,” Sara says, and bounces out of bed, pulling a set fresh clothes out of the drawers and putting them on. “Who wants food?”

“Me,” Ryan says.

“I could eat,” Shane says, and follows.

“Great job, everyone,” Sara says cheerfully, after they’ve all finished getting ready.

“Good teamwork,” Ryan adds. “Break!”

He holds his arm out between the three of them, hand spread out and facing palm downward. Shane and Sara both stare at it, baffled.

“What are you doing?” Shane asks.

“Break!” Ryan repeats insistently. “Game’s over, we won, break!”

“I guess ‘winning the game’ is an interesting way to think about fucking each other so hard our souls popped back into place,” Sara muses. “But I don’t know, Ryan, I think you’re taking the sports metaphors too far.”

“Yeah, sorry man,” Shane says, “but I’m not gonna give you a high-five for that.”

“It’s not a _high-five_ , it’s—”

“Let’s get waffles,” Sara interjects. “I’m not gonna do your hand thing, but nothing says ‘thanks for the great sex’ like waffles.”

“Is that true?”

“Well, it’s not _not_ true—”

“Hey,” Ryan asks, his hand still held out stubbornly in front of him. “Is this going to make things weird? Like, at work, I mean.”

“No,” Shane says, “of course not. Why would it?”

“Because I just put your dick in my body and then—”

“Okay, all right, I get it—”

“No,” Sara repeats. “It’s not going to be weird. It’s not going to change anything about our friendship, either of ours, unless—”

“Unless?”

“Unless we maybe want to let it change it, just a little,” Shane says, looking at her meaningfully. She smiles at him, and nods, because of course they’re on the same page. They’re pretty much always on the same page.

“What does that even mean?” Ryan asks, frustrated.

“In a sexy way, Ryan,” Sara explains. “Unless we want it to change in a sexy way, where we remain equally friendly coworkers but maybe you also become the kind of friend who has sex with us sometimes.”

Ryan blinks. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to,” Shane says, “obviously, we’re just putting this on the table, just in case. Sara did just bang you like a screen door in a hurricane, remember?”

“I remember,” Ryan says. “I—let me think about it, okay?”

“Take all the time you need,” Sara says, and finally, taking pity on him, she places her hand on top of his and then flings it upward, Ryan following along automatically.

“Break!” she says. “You’re welcome, Ryan. We did a sports thing, just for you. Okay, let’s go, waffle time—”

“Waffle time,” Shane agrees, and grabs his keys. “Let’s do this thing. Break!”

“I thought about it,” Ryan says. “I’m saying yes. Break.”


End file.
